Kathy came out from behind the counter. “It pays off, sometimes. A trucker got a jackpot about two weeks ago.”
“Don’t lie to me, honey. Just give my friend his twenty dollars back. It’s gotta be a law, or something, that you’re supposed to pay a percentage out.”
“Can’t do that. We don’t even own those machines. We just lease them from Mr. Sullivan.”
Big Arms came back inside from the restroom. He stood near the slot machine and listened to the conversation. “We don’t care about that,” he said. “The whole damn state of Nevada is just one big rip-off. Give us the money or a free meal.”
“Yeah,” said Shaved Head. “I’ll go for a free meal.”
“The food doesn’t have anything to do with the slot machines,” Kathy said. “If you ordered a meal, then-”
Fat Boy took three steps over to the counter and grabbed Kathy’s arm. “Hell, I’ll take something other than a free meal.”
His three friends howled their approval. “You sure about that?” Big Arms asked. “Think she’s worth twenty dollars?”
“If she does the four of us, it’s five dollars apiece.”
The door to the kitchen popped open and Kathy’s father came out with a baseball bat. “Let go of her! Right now!”
Silver Buckle looked amused. “Are you threatening me, old man?”
“You’re damn right! Now get your stuff and go!”
Silver Buckle reached across the table and picked up the heavy glass sugar container next to the little red bottle of Tabasco sauce. He sat up slightly and flung the container as hard as possible. Kathy’s father jerked back, but the container hit his left cheek and cracked open. Sugar sprayed everywhere and the old man staggered back.
Shaved Head slid out of the booth. He grabbed the end of the baseball bat, twisted it out of the old man’s hands, and held him in a neck lock. Using the butt end of the bat, Shaved Head struck the old man again and again. The old man went limp and Shaved Head let his victim drop onto the floor.
Maya touched Gabriel’s hand. “Go out through the kitchen.”
“No.”
“This has nothing to do with us.”
Gabriel looked at her with contempt and Maya felt as if she’d been slashed with a knife. She didn’t move-couldn’t move-as Gabriel stood up and took a few steps toward the men.
“Get out of here.”
“And who the hell are you?” Silver Buckle slid out of his booth. Now all four men were standing near the counter. “You’re not telling us nothing.”
Shaved Head kicked Kathy’s father in the ribs. “First thing we’re going to do is lock this old bastard up with that coyote.”
Kathy tried to get away, but Fat Boy held her tightly. “Second thing we do is inspect the merchandise.”
Gabriel showed the uncertainty of someone who had only practiced fighting at a karate school. He stood there, waiting for the attack. “You heard what I said.”
“Yeah. We heard.” Shaved Head waved the baseball bat like a policeman’s nightstick. “You got five seconds to get lost.”
Maya slid out of the booth. Her hands were open and she felt relaxed. Our kind of fighting is like diving into the ocean, Thorn once told her. Falling, but graceful. Pulled by gravity, but controlled.
“Don’t touch him,” Maya said. The men laughed and she took a few steps forward, moving into the killing zone.
“What country are you from?” Silver Buckle asked. “Sounds like England or something like that. Around here, women let their men do their own fighting.”
“Hey, I want her involved,” said Big Arms. “She’s got a nice little body.”
Maya felt the Harlequin coldness overcome her heart. Instinctively, her eyes measured distances and trajectories between herself and the four targets. Her face was dead-unemotional-but she tried to make her words as clear and distinct as possible. “If you touch him, I will destroy you.”
“Oh, I’m real scared.”
Shaved Head glanced at his friend and grinned. “You’re in big trouble, Russ! Little Missy looks mad! Better watch out!”
Gabriel turned to Maya. And, for the first time, he seemed to be in control of their relationship: like a Traveler commanding his Harlequin. “No, Maya! Do you hear me? I order you not to-”
He was half turned toward her, ignoring the danger, and Shaved Head raised the baseball bat. Maya jumped on a stool, then onto the counter. With two long steps, she ran past the ketchup and mustard containers, jabbed her right leg forward, and kicked Shaved Head in the throat. He spat and made a gurgling sound, but still held the bat. Maya grabbed the end of it and jumped down, wrenching it out of his hand with one motion, then swinging the bat at his head with a second motion. There was a loud cracking sound and he fell forward.
At the edge of her vision, she saw Gabriel fighting with Silver Buckle. She ran toward Kathy, holding the bat with her right hand and pulling out the stiletto with her left hand. Fat Boy looked terrified. He raised his arms like a soldier surrendering in battle and she drove the point of the stiletto through his palm, pinning his hand to the wooden paneling. The citizen gave a high-pitched scream, but she ignored him and continued toward Big Arms. Fake to the head, but swing lower. Break the right knee. Crack. Splinter. Then follow through to the head. Her target fell forward and she spun around. Silver Buckle was on the floor, unconscious. Gabriel had finished him off. Fat Boy was whimpering as she marched toward him.
“No,” he said. “Please, God. No.” And with one swing of the bat, she took him out. As he fell facedown, he ripped the knife out of the wall.
Maya dropped the bat, leaned over, and pulled out the stiletto. It was stained with blood, so she wiped it off on Fat Boy’s shirt. When she straightened up, the extreme clarity of combat began to fade away. Five bodies lay on the floor. She had defended Gabriel, but no one was dead.
Kathy stared at Maya as if she were a ghost. “You go away,” she said. “Just go away. Because I’m calling the sheriff in one minute. Don’t worry. If you go south, I’ll say you went north. I’ll change your car and everything.”
Gabriel went out the door first and Maya followed him. As she passed the coyote, she undid the latch and opened the door of the cage. At first the animal didn’t move, as if he had lost his memory of freedom. Maya kept walking and glanced over her shoulder. He was still in his prison. “Go ahead!” she shouted. “It’s your only chance!”
As she started up the van, the coyote walked cautiously out of the cage and surveyed the dirt parking lot. The loud roar of Gabriel’s motorcycle startled the animal. He jumped to one side, recovered his nonchalant attitude, and trotted past the diner.
Gabriel didn’t look at Maya as he turned back onto the road. There were no more smiles and waves, no graceful S curves across the broken white line. She had protected Gabriel-saved him-but somehow her actions seemed to push them farther apart. At that moment she knew with absolute certainty that no one would ever love her or heal her pain. Like her father, she would die surrounded by enemies. Die alone.
34
Wearing a surgical mask and gown, Lawrence Takawa stood in one corner of the operating room. The new building at the center of the research quadrangle still wasn’t equipped for a medical procedure. A temporary installation had been set up in the basement of the library.
He watched as Michael Corrigan lay down on the surgical table. Miss Yang, the nurse, came over with a heated blanket and folded it around his legs. Earlier that day, she had shaved all the hair off Michael’s head. He looked like an army recruit who had just started basic training.
Dr. Richardson and Dr. Lau, the anesthesiologist brought in from Taiwan, finished preparing for the operation. A needle was inserted into Michael’s arm, and the plastic IV tube was attached to a sterile solution. They had already taken X-ray and MRI images of Michael’s brain at a private clinic in Westchester County that was controlled by the Brethren. Miss Yang clipped the film to light boxes at one end of the room.